


Vow

by williamastankova



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-05-03 12:57:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamastankova/pseuds/williamastankova
Summary: The Godswood looked down at him, where he sat, on his knees. This was just about the silliest thing he had ever done, but also one of the most important. He had to do this: for himself, for Arya, for them.





	1. Chapter 1

Gendry wasn't one for organised religion. He hated seeing the pain theism had caused people, at least in his experience. He had seen countless people with bright eyes, gushing to the blacksmith boy (himself, of course) back in King's Landing, talking to him excitedly about how they were going to go to the Sept later that day with their ill-of-health relative, and he had seen them walk by the next day and enter the run-down mortuary across the crowded street. It was sickening, really, in his mind. He thought of religious leaders as sadists, people who loved seeing others die, and even more watching their loved ones reactions when the news broke. He thought it was sickening, how they promised to make people better, and only days later the "healed" person was buried in the ground. It was terrible, in Gendry's mind, and something he vowed never to be a part of.

However, here he was, before the godswood, in Winterfell, plundering deep into the bleeding eyes of the tree. Here he was, prepared to kneel and shut his eyes, leaving himself vulnerable, for one certain task. It was silly, really. There was no need, because there was nobody there. Nothing great and divine would answer him, and nothing would be any different after he asked what he was going to. Still, he was going to.

It began when he arrived at Winterfell. Well, no, not really; it had began properly years ago, back in King's Landing, when he was still just the bastard who apprenticed at the forge, and his biggest dream was to some day run it, after his mentor passed. It was before any hope in his mind sprung up about being King Robert's son, meeting Melisandre and Davos, experiencing what he had, fighting who and what he had, and certainly not this. All those years ago, with Hot Pie and Arry, he had never imagined this.

It hit him again how stupid this was. It occurred to him more than once that he should just turn and head back into the castle, before anybody - especially Jon and Arya - noticed he wasn't around, and came looking for him. He was sure he would never live this down. Even if their family did worship the Old Gods, he had always been so against it. He had always spouted his concerns, the shortcomings of religion, so for them to find him like this wasn't even considerable. With this in mind, he figured it best to speed things up a little.

He took his position, awkwardly kneeling before the wooden mass, as he had seen people do before. He cleared his throat loudly - too loudly, he had to swing back around to make sure nobody had heard him and was now watching him. They weren't, naturally, and he turned back to the tree, looking straight into its piercing eyes, verging on unsettled. He planned his words in his head, pausing for a moment, before continuing:   
"Uh, hey," not what he meant to say. His brows furrowed, yet he persisted, "I don't know how this works, honestly." Frankess was always good, right?

He stopped. This was utterly idiotic. He sighed, "Can you talk to the dead like this? I- need to ask someone something." He paused yet again; he could help it. This felt so odd, "Ned Stark. Eddard, I mean. Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell. Ex-Lord, I suppose." He went off on a tangent momentarily, before catching himself.

For some inexplicable reason, he waited for a response. In the mean time, a breeze blew through the trees, and through him. The air wasn't cold, just tepid, and definitely not uncomfortable or unwelcome. For such a cold part of the country, this was usual, but Gendry, being the skeptic he was, thought nothing of it. The wind stopped, and Gendry started up again.   
"I need to ask him something, something really important." Gendry stated, "He knew me - well, we met, once, in King's Landing. My name is Gendry Waters, and I'm the bastard son of King Robert, one of his closest friends. After his excecution - sorry for mentioning that, I don't mean to upset - I took on his daughter, Arya. Well, I didn't know she was Arya Stark, of course. Had a bloody heart attack when I found out, but either way. We became the best of friends, alongside Hot Pie, and we became a sort of outlaw band, except we were almost sold into slavery... Well, I got myself out, the cheap way, and abandoned her. The Red Witch, Melisandre, told me to go with her, and I shallowly abandoned Arya and Hot Pie. I was so stupid; for years I've regretted that decision, how much time I lost with Arya. Anyway, I messed up, and yet somehow I got another chance. Jon Snow, Ned's bastard, found me, and long story short I'm back in Winterfell, and it turns out Arya is, too. We met back up, and, after her hitting me and almost fulfilling her wish to kill me, only being stopped by Jon wrestling her to the floor and Daenerys talking to her soothingly, after kicking me out of the room rather abruptly, things fell back into place. It was like the last few years hadn't happened, except they had. She was so beautiful, Ned. She _is_ so beautiful, you wouldn't believe. And this is what I need from you, Ned: I need you to forgive me, and give me your blessing. Give me your blessing to wed your Arya, and stand beside her for the rest of our days. I would say let me protect her, but she doesn't need my protection anymore - believe me. I want nothing more than to be with her, to marry her, to fight beside her - to fight for her - and to be true. In my life, I've never been one for caring too much about living frankly, but she's changed me. And I swear to you, Ned, I swear on everything I have and don't have, that I will never betray her. I need you to believe me - I want you to trust me, even if I might not deserve it after my past actions - and let me be with her. I won't let her down. I won't let you down. I swear by it, for the rest of my days."

He finished, and the world went still. He sat for what might have been thirty seconds or a decade, awaiting some sort of sign - some answer, despite his past beliefs that anybody doing so was an imbecile. Maybe he was an imbecile: he had just asked a tree to marry Arya Stark, after all. That was what he did. He had spoken to a tree, and called it Ned, and told it of the massive crush he had on Arya. He called her beautiful. It was completely and utterly true, but he had called her beautiful to a piece of bark, and that just about made him barking mad. He felt his face turn red with embarrassment, as though somebody was listening to him, though he knew they weren't. He rose to his feet once more and avoided looking at the tree. It was shameful, though at the same time it wasn't. Religion might not have been real, but Arya Stark sure was. He might have not been one for faith, but Arya was something he could worship for the rest of his life without complaint.

He took a slow walk back to the castle, deciding to find Jon and Arya and discuss some plans for armour production, and not much else. Maybe it wasn't the right time to try something with Arya, and that was fine. When the time was right, he would know it. Somehow, somewhere. Now, he just had to make sure he controlled himself, and did what was best for Winterfell.

* * *

 

A girl smiled and peeked out from behind the godswood. Her hazel eyes glistened in delight, and her small frame shook from excitement. She watched him walk away, mind whirring. Arya Stark had begun to spin plans of her own, and Gendry Waters had no idea just how good life was about to get. He had no idea.


	2. Begin to Begin Again with Waters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry had dreamt of this moment for longer than he cared to remember, or admit. However, it never went like this, in any variation of his dreams...
> 
> Set before the previous chapter. Gendry comes back to Winterfell with the crew, and Arya sees him for the first time since he left.

He was tired. He was so, so tired, having been rowing for days, taking only small breaks, after travelling so long. He had met Jon, traveled alongside him to meet Daenerys, which was just about the most surreal experience of his life. He had grown up hearing whispers among the street folk of King's Landing, how they talked about the Targaryan baby girl, who had nothing to her name, after her family's pompous hierarchy collapsed in on itself. And yet, there she was, sitting on a throne of her own, having been sold, raped, had a miscarriage, losing her husband, being traded countless times - even by her own family, to said husband - and God knows what else. Gendry only knew what he had overheard, and it was still so much. She was so brave, so beautiful, and she knew his name now.

It wasn't about her, though. Well, it was, but after that was over, after they had met and she agreed to come back to Winterfell with them, it was no longer about her. On the ship back, he had gathered with Jon - not for business, as usual, but instead just to talk. They talked a lot about nothing, until Jon mentioned a raven he had received from Sansa, notifying him of their sister's return to Winterfell. He said it enthusiastically, but so casually. When he mentioned it, Gendy felt himself go deaf for a moment, and his stomach did something it had never done. He was ridiculous, but he couldn't help himself asking a flood of questions, when the gate had opened.   
"Arya's back?" Jon nodded, "How is she? Where has she been?" Jon shrugged, telling him Sansa hadn't included very much information at all, only that she was back and better than ever, "God, I'm such an idiot! I never should have left her." Jon looked at him funny.  
"Left her? You knew her?" He inquired, his own interest now peaked.   
Gendry had completely forgotten Jon had no idea they knew each other. In fact, he recalled Arya telling him how she hadn't seen Jon since he left for the Wall, which meant they hadn't seen each other since then still. Suddenly, he felt guilty, and quickly shrugged it off, somehow managing to deter Jon's attention onto Daenerys, which was something he knew he was enthusiastic about.

Within days, they were docking up, heading to Winterfell. The excitement was building, though Gendry could never admit that. If he did, Jon would be reminded of what he had said last on the Arya situation, and he would have to explain. He didn't quite feel up to being punched by Jon's wrath, not just yet, at least. Maybe when they actually entered through the gates of Winterfell, because then he would have Arya to mend him back up again. She could nurse him, surely, and would. Even if Jon almost killed him (which didn't seem to far fetched, considering what he had done to Arya, his cherished sibling), she could help him. She was clever. And beautiful. What?  
"What?" Jon turned back, looking at him, making Gendry widen his eyes.  
"What?" He replied stupidly, thinking he had said that out loud. Hopefully not all of it, at least.   
"You were muttering. I asked which way we're supposed to be going." Jon replied, looking at him, confused. Daenerys ahead of them stopped, and turned to look at Gendry also.  
"Are you feeling quite alright?" She asked, sarcastically.   
"Yes, I'm fine." He said, too seriously, checking the map, "We're going south east."  
"Thank you." Jon and Dany turned back around, and his face flushed lightly.

There it was. Over the hill, Gendry could see Winterfell, in all of its glory. Sure, parts were obviously rebuilt, after the many wars - recent and ancient - that had waged there, but it was magnificent. He could see how Jon and Arya fit in there, even if the former was a bastard. Its stony walls would deter any unsuspecting passerby, unless they were desperately in need, but inside would be magnificent: he could feel it.

They drew closer, and Gendry was almost sick. It had been so long since he had last seen Arya, and all he remembered of her was Arry, the scruffy little boy with bluntly sawed hair and uneven features, decorated in mud and dust. He wondered what she looked like now. Was she the same? Had she grown so much, she would now tower over him? Did she have long, elegant, devourable legs? Oh heavens, what if she had a chest? The child Gendry recalled was as skinny and flat as a board, and small. What if all three of those things had reversed? What if she was the most beautiful woman that had ever graced Winterfell, even more so than her sister, and perhaps even Daenerys! What if she had forgiven him so long ago, and was prepared to jump into bed with him? What if she would never forgive him, and--

"Lower the bridge!" Jon's booming voice commanded, and it was so. The clattery bridge dropped slowly, seemingly in slow motion, and on the other side, Sansa Stark, he figured from the Tully auburn hair and perfect, pointed features. He watched her and Jon draw together like opposing magnets, running into each other's arms, squeezing their eyes shut tighty, capturing the moment in their memories forever. Gendry imagined it was him and Arya. He imagined her bundling into him, and him resting his head beside hers, on her shoulder, and their pieces finally fitting together. He imagined himself letting a tear slide, and watching it slip down her back, into the back of her azure dress, between her sharp shoulderblades.

After exchanging pleasantries with everybody, Gendry silently hoped for somebody other than himself to bring up the topic of Arya's whereabouts. While he didn't want to seem rude, the tension was becoming too much, and he was fearful he would burst into a ball of flames. In his favour, Jon asked for him.  
"Where is Arya?"  
Sansa smiled, "I thought you'd want to see her. She should be in her usual sleeping quarters, if she's followed my instructions," she quickly added, with a humerous grin towards him, "which is unlikely."  
Jon looked back at Gendry and Daenerys, "You two should come, too. I'm sure she'd love to meet the Dragon Queen, and you said you knew her, Gendry, didn't you?" Gendry nodded, trying not to seem overly or underly enthused, "Then what are we waiting for? Let's see Arya!" He smiled sincerely, for the first time Gendry had seen since their meeting.

Jon led the three of them up some wooden steps, and around the upper platform of the castle before stopping at a door.   
"This is it." Jon stated plainly, ensuring they all knew where they were going.  
"This is it." Gendry repeated, breathing deeply.   
Jon knocked on the door, and Gendry heard a woman call "come in!" from inside. This really was it. After everything they had been through - after everything he had been through without her, after he selfishly left with the Red Witch. Jon pushed open the door slowly, and Gendry's heart stopped.

Inside the room, there she stood. At first, he saw the back of her, and almost didn't recognise her. He saw her hair had grown significantly, as it now rested on her shoulders, and she was virtually no taller than she was last time they had met, at least that was how it seemed to him. She turned around, and he saw her face for the first time in years. She was... beautiful. No, she wasn't tall, long-legged, blonde, with the largest bosom in Westeros, but she was incomparable. Any other woman, high-born or whore, would have struggled to even come close to her. Her eyes were still wide, her nose was still tiny, and her face was still hers, but she was unlike anybody else. Even Daenerys, one of Westeros's most infamous beauties, came nowhere near. Gendry couldn't believe his eyes.

And, apparently, neither could Arya, as he watched her eyes widen impossibly, and her mouth drop open as she saw him. It seemed that she hadn't even noticed Jon or Daenerys, but instead her eyes had instantly fell upon him. He felt special. He awaited her running and jumping onto him, latching like an undiscovered woodland creature, unwilling to ever let him go. He even opened his arms, wide enough to fit her and only her, as though they had hugged a hundred thousand times before, which they hadn't. He was prepared. This was the time; it was more than long-overdue.

However, what happened next was most certainly not what Gendry had anticipated. Yes, Arya did start on a sprint across the small room, making a beeline for him, but she didn't open her arms. No, quite the opposite: she, upon reaching the trio, began violently attacking him. She first punshed his torso, but soon realised this hurt her more than him, and began her attack on the rest of his body. She scratched at his neck, and she trod on his feet, and she pushed him, sending him almost flying onto the floor outside of her room, all whilst screaming her head off. Looking from her, to Jon and Daenerys, he saw them looking at each other, wondering just what in the hell was happening. From what they knew, Gendry and Arya were the best of friends, and now here she was, beating him up, scratching at him, and now delivering her fatal blow. Before Gendry could register what she was doing and attempt to deflect her brutal attack, Arya had clutched his shoulders, piercing his skin with her fingers, and kneed him in his /gentleman area/.

He howled in pain and shock, and Jon finally decided enough was enough, and threw his arms around the skinny waist of his youngest sister. She wriggled, writhed, wormed in his arms, and all but screamed the wooden roof off. Most of her words were incomprehensible, but the ones that came up most often and most clearly were, 'traitor' and 'coward', which really didn't help Gendry in that moment. He hobbled around, feeling Arya's hazel eyes burning into him all the while, until Daenerys found her place to intervene. While everything was going on, Gendry figured Jon and Daenerys were communiating, but he couldn't hear anything - not really - so he had no idea, in reality. He figured she had to at least be saying something to Arya, as he had crossed the room and was now wide-eyed with raised eyebrows, and her mouth was moving. It was probable she was trying to remain calm, cool, and collected, for Arya's sake, but had given up. Now, it was impossible not to hear Daenerys screaming at him to "just bloody leave, for God's sake!" and pointing at him, so he was extra aware who she was talking to. She looked like she was about to pop now, so he decided it best to follow what she said, and he promptly exited the room.

He retired to the nearest available room, passing Davos on the way, telling him to tell Jon and Daenerys where he was, if they inquired. He didn't dare mention Arya's name to him; she wouldn't come looking for him anyway. In fact, while he tried to keep his mind off of her so he could get some sleep after his expedition, it seemed the more the tried to do so, the more the exact opposite happened. He tossed and turned under his furs, eventually feeling so hot he had to slip them off, even though he had nothing else on. He pondered to himself.

Did he deserve her forgiveness? No.   
Should he ever expect her not to hate him? No.   
Did she have every right to attack him, and do even more than just reduce his chance of ever fathering his own litter? Yes.   
Should he go and talk to her again? Almost definitely not, no matter how much he wanted to.

Just as he finished this thought, he heard his door being pushed in. Panicked, he grabbed the nearest weapon (which, to Gendry, was just about anything), completely forgetting about being exposed. As he turned around, he found himself face-to-face with Arya. This, while it should have been a comforting sight, scared him as much as - if not more than - an intruder hell-bent on killing him would have been. Hell, that could have been exactly what she was, judging by her past actions towards him, though they were entirely called for.   
"Arya?"  
She remained quiet, just looking at him for a moment. He found it difficult to gauge her feelings, and this unsettled him. Her face was stoic, but her eyes said something different. He at first thought she was here to give him another well-earned earful, but she seemed to want something different - to say something different. He decided to wait it out, and not to assume anything either way.

The silence was deafening. It could have been thirty seconds, or thirty decades: Gendry didn't know. What he did know was that he felt immeasureably better when she began speaking:  
"Welcome back."   
To him, the words didn't make much sense, in the timeline of his life, but he smiled anyway. His face broke out into a broad grin, "Thanks."  
She went quiet again, and he was worried he had said something wrong, until he remembered he was still exposed. Embarrassed but glad in a strange way, he grabbed his furs and wrapped them around himself. Arya began laughing.  
"I was waiting to see how long it'd take you to realise." She said, noticing his face hear as she did so, so she quickly added, "No worries."  
Gendry was the one to enter them into silence this time. He found himself at a loss of words, but eventually formed, "I'm sorry" and let it fall from his lips: something he should have done hours prior. Better later than never, right?   
Yes. "I forgive you." She replied, and his heart felt lighter, "...and I'm sorry for clawing your eyes out before."  
He shrugged, chuckling, "'salright. I'd have done the same if someone did that to me." The 'that' was something he vowed to never speak of directly again, and Arya seemed grateful for this.  
She smiled wider. "Good," she said, "Shows you haven't been changed."  
"Nope," he shook his head in agreement, "still the bastard of the forge, Gendry Waters."  
"Yeah, about that, actually," she began, "I was thinking, maybe we could go to Sansa about that? Make you Gendry Baratheon. You know, after everything."  
"Arya Stark and Gendry Baratheon," he breathed, too wistfully, so he instantly had to follow up with a joke, "what cocks we sound like. Whatever happened to Gendry and Arry Waters?"  
"They're still here." She smiled at him sweetly.

He saw how her eyes sparkled, for the first time. The last chance he had to look at her properly, she had a murderous look in her eyes, and was pulling at him maniacally, and her face was scrunched up, as it always had when she became truly vexed. Now, however, when she was laughing and smiling, he could see her real beauty. Again, no, she wasn't like her sister, or Daenerys. Her features weren't angled points, at distinct angles. Her hair was still short and mousy, with rough ends, that fell to different points on her neck and shoulders, but she was beautiful. She had the sort of eyes that displayed every emotion she felt, like crystal windows to her soul. Her eyebrows aided them, moving with every word she said, dark and bushy and lovely, in all sorts of ways. Her big, rounded features made Gendry feel at home, and he was in love. He always had been, really, which was confusing when he thought she was Arry, but otherwise it all just made sense - fell into place. It was almost as though they had met before King's Landing all those years ago, but that was impossible, surely. He didn't dwell on the thought, though, as he wanted to make sure he missed nothing she did or said.

They chatted about various things, such as her experiences in Braavos, playing different roles, almost joining a travelling performance band, seriously considering boarding ship, before the leader - the woman who invited her, who liked her - died. Well, had been murdered. He in turn told her of his experiences on the seas, stopping at various cities he came across, meeting Davos, meeting Jon, meeting Daenerys. Honestly, he had never anticipated his life would be so exciting. Back on the streets of King's Landing, he was simply brawn, waiting to be sold to his next "carer", which was really just another title for a forced-labour overseer. Now, though, he was still Gendry, regardless of his surname, and he knew the Starks. He knew Daenerys Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons, and all of her other titles. Most importantly, he knew Arya Stark herself, with all of her perfect rough edges.

Eventually, though, when they began to hear the maesters waking up, and some animals scuffling outside, presumably birds, they realised how long they had just been sat there, talking. It was almost like old times, but not. Not, because she was so much older, and so was he. Not, because things were different now, for the both of them - at least he hoped. Not, because she was now something more to him, than she ever had been. She had always meant a lot, but now it was so much, in so many varying ways.

She stood somewhat abruptly, announcing her leave.  
"People might talk," she smiled cheekily at him.  
He teased back, "give them something to talk about, then," but stood with her, walking with her to his chamber door, making sure to keep his furs securely around him the entire time. He watched her skillfully open the door, not making a sound, and slip outside, turning back to look at him.   
"I'll see you later?" She said/asked - he couldn't quite tell, but the answer was definitely a yes.   
Nodding, he remained quite close to her, in her proximity, but not trying to undo everything they had built and rebuilt the night prior. Deep down, he wanted something to happen, absolutely, but he would never force anything on her, ever. No matter how desperate he got, no matter how long he went without anything or everything, He waited for her to kiss him - a little optimistic, sure, but it was worth hoping.

She didn't kiss him, however. No, but she did launch herself at him, and throw her arms around his torso, burying her face in the mixture of furs and exposed skin there. She inhaled deeply, and he let himself let go of the furs keeping his decency, trusting in her firm grasp that they wouldn't slip. He looked down at her for a split second, and promptly wrapped his long arms around her, squeezing her into him, and he felt her move her head a little, facing more into his pectorals, essentially snuggling his chest.   
"I missed you." She admitted softly.   
"I missed you too."

A blissful moment later, she pulled away, making sure he had hold of his furs before she let go completely, and smiled, "I'll see you later."   
He nodded, watched her walk away, a new spring in her step, and he smiled, chuckling lightly to himself, before shutting the door over quietly.

Yeah, he could get used to this.


End file.
